


Some Get Half As Many

by emily_ann_1021



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Foster Care, Foster System, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9258089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emily_ann_1021/pseuds/emily_ann_1021
Summary: After two years in the foster system Alex doesn't expect his new foster parents to be any different than the last. Only now he's in a unfamiliar state going to live with complete strangers. All his life Alex has dealt with people who never truly saw him or genuinely cared for him, what is he going to do when he encounters a couple set on doing both those things?Basically another foster care au which no one asked for, yet I gave anyway





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Hamilton fic, and the urge to write it was so strong I had to. 
> 
> Some of the procedures in this story go against actual rules of the foster system, I had to bend that a lot to make my story line work. Curse you George for living in Mount Vernon! Alas, I relent

_His ribs stung as the laminate countertop dug into his side. He tries to righten himself when a strong leg connects with his own, causing his left wrist to smash against the stone and his body to hit the floor without warning._

_“Get up.” A harsh voice barks._

_He does not want to get up. He wants to lay there on the floor forever, never moving in hopes the pain would subside and he could sleep. He knows he isn't that lucky. With fear, adrenaline, and resignation flooding his veins, the boy stands. His knees buckle slightly, the weight of his body becoming too much to sustain. A fist connects with his cheek, the dry knuckles scratching across his face like sandpaper. The boys wrist slams into the counter once more and again he finds himself sprawled across cracked and dirty kitchen tile. The boy closes his eyes and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip._

_“Get up.”_

********

“Passengers this is your Captain speaking-”

Alex jolted awake as a deep voice filled the tightly packed cabin. He could feel his breathing pick up and shut his eyes, wringing his hands and counting silently - desperately - to avoid hyperventilating. He was surprised to fall asleep in a public space, although for someone who had been awake for 56 hours he supposed he really shouldn't be that taken aback. And the flight was barely over an hour long. 

“Will you please _quiet down_ Alexander,” the man sitting to him sent Alex a look which said if he could vaporize the young boy on spot he would. The blackberry made a chirping sound and instantly recaptured his attention. “I'm trying to _work_ over here. It's already bad enough I had to _waste_ half my day on a _plane_ for god sake.”

The man, Mr. Thomas Jefferson, was the second social worker to handle Alex’s case. Unsurprisingly, he was no better than the first. Alex felt a retort sting the back of his throat, but he could barely breath normally much less snap back a sarcastic comment. 

Alex turned in his seat, glancing longingly at the window cover. He tried to open it when the pair first piled onto the plane before Jefferson snapped at Alex to shut it. Now that he was awake the confined space of the cabin slithered up Alex’s spine, the walls were caving in and all he could feel was _trapped trapped trapped_ -

“-arriving on time in Virginia. We should be unboarding in roughly fifteen minutes, the current local time is 10:43 am. Good morning!”

Alex curled his fingers around the plane seat, he forced his eyes to stay open despite the panic in his chest. As the seatbelt sign flickered off Alex fiddled with the metal in his lap. 

Mr. Jefferson snatched Alex’s backpack from where it rolled near Jefferson's chair during the flight and tossed it haphazardly towards Alex. The pack landed on Alex’s lap where his hands still rested, the object collided with his wrist causing Alex to stifle a yelp and slowly move the backpack while counting his breaths. 

Jefferson laughed at something on his phone. 

********  
**Three days prior.**

“Phillip kept saying he would fix my windshield wipers and one day he did. So there I am Monday on the highway while it's pouring rain and both my wipers go flying off the car!”

Laughter erupted among the group. The four adults were seated around a circular mahogany table. A woman with gentle eyes and a soft touch laid a hand on the speakers shoulder, “Oh Catherine what did you do?”

Catherine Schuyler laughed and nudged the man next to her. “That's the last time I let Philip fix anything related to my car.”

The group laughed once more and Philip Schuyler leaned across the table and gestured towards his wife. “Do you see how they make fun of me George? Hurts me right here.” Philip’s hand landed over his heart. 

Catherine rolled her eyes and leaned in close to the woman next to her. “I get this every weekend Martha.” 

A tall man with tender eyes by the name of George Washington rubbed a hand across his jaw while a deep filled chuckle escaped his throat. “Well Philip I must say…”

A loud ring filled the lively space. George’s hand flew to his back pocket. 

“George…” Martha Washington fixed him with a stern yet playful look. “You know our rule about work at the dinner table.” 

The man laughed, pulling out his phone with an intent to silence the ringer when the number caught his eye. “I'm sorry Martha, I'm going to have to take this.”

George stood from the table and rounded the corner to his office. Once inside the room he sternly held the phone to his year. “Good evening John.”

“Evening,” a weary voice from the other end replied. “I know it's probably dinner time for ya George, sorry to interrupt.” 

“I know you wouldn't unless it was something important.”

The man on the other end sighed. “It's Jefferson again George. That man should not be in this field of work, I swear if I have to go through intercepting one of his kids one more time-”

“John,” George interrupted, the playful tone from his voice gone. “What happened this time?” 

“He's got a kid from Manhattan he's shipping here to Virginia, called in a favor I guess to some guy he knows here to take the kid. He's reregistering the boy in the Virginia system, my guess is so he can stay simple get rid of the kid. Anyway, to say the kid’s last foster parents didn't treat him too kindly is an understatement at best. That actually goes for nearly all of them, he's been in eight foster homes in the last two years. But you know Jefferson, no “proof” means no spot on his record of mismanaging these kids. Anyway, this guy Jefferson’s got him set up with seems to be the same type of place he just came from. The kid’s 14 and from Puerto Rico, was transferred to the states after his mother passed and a cousin in New York said he'd take him. The cousin committed suicide before the kid could make it to the mainland.”

While John was speaking George’s hand had curled into a fist hearing the treatment of the fourteen year old boy. His feet hit the back of the couch and he sank deep into the cushions. 

“Anyway Jefferson’s really got his guns aimed with this one.” 

“Why does Thomas have a problem with this particular kid?” Movement from the side alerted George to Martha leaning against the door jam. Her arms were crossed in front of her and worry knitted her brow. 

“Same reason he doesn't like you. Kid shoots off at the mouth when he see injustice or stupidity. Though I tell ya, if Jefferson hates being called out as an ignorant asshole so much maybe he should stop acting like one.” George bit back a laugh and leaned back against the armrest. “Look George, I know you and Martha applied to be foster parents a long time ago, and I know you never received any response over the many years and I'm sorry for that. I know the high profile job can wear on you sometimes, and I know that adding a kid to the mix can be challenging. Don't think I don't know that.”

At this point Martha occupied the vacant seat next to George, her worry shifting to confusion. George took a deep breath, searching Martha’s eyes for a minute before clutching the mobile phone tighter in his hand. 

“Down to the point John, I know what you're leaving unsaid,” George made eye contact with Martha once more. “I want him here with us, I don't want a child who has already gone through pain to see more of it. Send me his file and information on his arrival. But I need to talk to Martha before we do anything major, I will call you again within the hour to discuss more details and possible paperwork. I promise.”

“Of course George, you're a good man.” 

George set the phone on the coffee table in front of the couch and turned to face his wife. Concern was still etched in her face. “Was that John Adams, dear?”

George nodded, he reached over and clutched his wife's hand. “Yes it was. Martha, he called because he has a 14 year old boy in the foster system who has been mistreated, John reckons, for quite some time. I realize that we applied long ago to be foster parents, and I understand we are not exactly prepared to take in a child right now - but when I think about what this boy has gone through I-”

“George,” Martha rubbed her free hand up and down his arm, “take a breath dear.” She smiled at the determined glint in her husband's eye. She thought about their big house, and the loneliness she sometimes felt with the lack of a third occupant. She thought of the boy, a child being mistreated in system meant to care for him, and how she was now being presented with an opportunity to help. An opportunity to be a mother. She looked up at George. “I want to help him too.” 

George smiled adoringly at his wife and leaned down to place a kiss on the top of her head. A chime interrupted quiet and George glanced down to his iPhone to see a new email notification. He opened the email one handed and clicked on the attached PDF. A photo of a young boy filled the screen. He had sunken in cheeks, dark circles under his eyes, and the clothes he was wearing fit too loose for comfort. Long chocolate colored hair hung in a limp ponytail by his neck, and a forced smile twisted his lips. Martha’s hand lifted to cover her mouth. 

“He looks so small, George.”

George unlaced his hand from his wife's and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I know, but he's going to come to us. We can help him here.” 

Martha nodded and leaned against George’s chest. “What's his name, dear?”

George fiddled with the phone, reading through the first page of the boys file. “Alexander. Alexander Hamilton.”

“Alexander.” Martha repeated. She looked up at George through her lashes. 

“Alexander.” George answered with a smile. “I have some phone calls to make.”

A chair scraping against hardwood interrupted the couple. Philip’s voice filled the air. “Um...George? Martha?” 

********  
**Present**

Alex felt his breath lighten the moment he stepped off the plane. Jefferson stepped around him, expecting Alex to follow. 

He tightened his hold on the backpack strap and quickened his pace to stay in line with the man. When they reached the outside of the airport Jefferson led him to a waiting yellow taxi. 

“Alright Alexander,” Jefferson glanced down at his watch, “I have a connecting flight in twenty minutes. This is your taxi, the driver has the address you'll be going to, I think all the affairs are in order. Goodbye Alexander, I wish I could say our time together was pleasant.” 

Alex shouldered the backpack higher, forcing himself to meet Jefferson’s eyes. “Wish I could say that too.” 

Jefferson narrowed his eyes, turning on his heels back to the airport. “Oh, and Alexander,” Alex paused with his hand on the taxi door handle, “if you run it's your funeral.” 

With that the only person Alex knew in this unfamiliar state disappeared into the crowd, leaving Alex for the first time in a while truly and completely _alone_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So now Alex get's to meet Martha!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun side note: I wrote half of this while it was slow at work, and I'm not apologizing :)

Alex stared at the rolling hills and valleys out the taxi window. His thoughts shifted to the unfamiliar roads, unfamiliar city, unfamiliar state, and absolute _strangers_ he was about to meet. Mr. Jefferson wasn't a good man by any means, but at least Alex had become accustomed to his presence. Right now, in this car, he was alone in a place that was not his home. 

_You don't have a home, a voice in the back of his mind said, you haven't for a long time. Not since the hurri-_

Alex rubbed his eyes, a feeble attempt to scrub away old images and memories. Alex thought of the couple he was about to meet. Jefferson had set him up with an old friend of his, a thought which was not by any means comforting, when the plans abruptly changed two days ago and now he was going with new foster parents. Jefferson seemed pissed off about it, so at least Alex had that. 

_The other foster parents probably read your file and decided they didn’t want you. They saw the fighting, the mouthing off, the anxiety, the-_

Alex fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, one of the few clothing items he carried with him house to house. This one had a hole along the lining in the back and a small cut in the fabric near his shoulder. It was also the thickest article of clothing he owned. Alex leaned his head on the window, the fast passing trees blurring his eyes so Alex didn’t have to stare at anything particular. 

Two minutes late the taxi hit a rather large bump in the road which banged Alex’s head against the glass. Rubbing the spot above his eyebrow, Alex leaned down and pulled out a tattered notebook. He flipped to an empty page, he barely had fifteen pages left before the end. Licking his lips, Alex dug out a pencil from within his pack and placed the weathered down tip to the page. 

Time seems to pass at a different speed whenever Alex wrote, sometimes hours passed while pages of his notebook filled with ink. Words formed images of objects and feelings surrounding Alex. Every line of thought shooting through the convoluted mass of Alex’s mind made its way onto paper, sometimes forming the most eloquent of passages, other times creating an incomprehensible cloud. Alex hardly ever re-read the things he’d written, mostly writing to keep sane. 

“Alright kid, this is the gate.” Alex slipped the notebook back into his backpack and looked up. Then _froze_. Standing before him was not merely a house but a mansion, with a wide circular driveway leading up to a white house with scarlet roofing and siding. A picket fence wrapped around the property, stopping just before a lake spread out along the back of the estate. Alex didn’t realize his mouth was open until he went to speak.

“A-are you sure this is the p-place?” Alex bit his lip and winced at the stumbling words but could not bring himself to tear his eyes away from the building. 

“Yep,” the driver pulled up along the front porch, “this is the Washington’s place. They’re good people, kid.” 

_Sure they are_. 

Alex pushed open the taxi door, and was just about to shut it when he realized he probably had to pay the driver. Jefferson didn’t give him any money and he never had money of his own-

“Hey kid, the drive is paid for already. The Washington’s had me pick you up at the airport, that’s why I was waiting up front.” He smirked at Alex as he nodded and shut the door. 

As soon as Alex took his first step up the porch the taxi took off. _There’s no possibility of running now_. One step at a time, Alex made his way up the stone steps to beaming wood door. His shoulders curled inward as he raised a shaky fist to the door. 

Not ten seconds later a woman appeared at the entryway. Dark brunette curls laid against her back, she wore navy blue jeans and a soft white sweater. A warm smile touched her face that made Alex’s stomach flip. He made brief eye contact before immediately staring down at her shoes. 

“Hello,” she held the door open more and gestured for him to come inside. “You must be Alexander, please please come inside you must be freezing out there.” It was just the end of November but already the temperature was dropping close to freezing. He nodded and crossed the threshold of the house. Instantly he felt the warmth coming from the home, a fire was lit in the living room and heat seemed to radiate from every corner of the house. 

A hand landed on his upper arm, and Alex felt a flicker of pride swell in him that he didn’t flinch. “My name is Martha Washington, it is a pleasure to meet you Alexander.”

Alex was silent, a voice in his head snapped at him to say something. _Just say something, anything! She’s going to think you don’t know how to talk, she’s going to think you’re broken_. “I go by ‘Alex’.” It was mumbled but loud enough for Martha to catch it, Alex’s eyes widened when he realized the words left his mouth but Martha’s smile never wavered. 

“I’m sorry about that Alex, please forgive me. Did you have a good flight over here? I’m sorry I was unable to meet you at the airport myself, and I know my husband feels the same, I just got home from an event about ten minutes before you arrived. And my husband, George, is going to come home early tonight too. He is very excited to meet you Alex.” 

Alex felt his anxiety spike at the mention of her husband, but he nodded along to the rest of what she was saying. It didn’t make sense though, he never had a foster parent apologize for something - much less twice in under a minute. And why would they want to meet him at the airport? He was fine. 

When Martha realized she wasn’t going to get a verbal response from the boy she gestured around the house. “Why don’t I give you a mini tour, sweetie? Would that be alright?”

She asked the question like he had a choice in the answer. Alex knew better, he knew there wasn’t really a choice. Martha led him through the living room into a rather large kitchen, with a spacious marble island in the center. She led them down a hall, pointing out each of the rooms that were in use though Alex could hardly remember with the twists and turns. “...that’s George’s study, and I believe that’s it with the downstairs. Your room is upstairs too.” 

Alex felt surprise jolt through him. He’s never had a room to himself before, always sharing with one or sometimes even four other people. When they reached the top of the landing Martha resumed pointing out the rooms. “...that there is the library, down the hall is another upstairs bathroom…” Excitement froze Alex in front of the door, they had an entire library to themselves. Every fiber of his being urged him to twist the handle…

“Alex?” He instantly awoke from his stupor, quickening his pace to keep up with Martha. When they reached a door three rooms down from the library Martha pushed forward and stepped into the room. The walls were a light beige, seeming to reflect the sunlight streaming in between the two floor length windows. Where the window panes ended a bench was built in underneath with an inviting cushion and soft looking throw pillows. There was a desk near the door, with a bookshelf built into the wall running alongside it. A bed was against the shorter wall, with a nightstand on either side. A large mahogany dresser sat perched along the last wall. The room was bigger than some apartments Alex had stayed in. “Unless you have any objections and wish to stay in another room, this space is yours.”

_Yeah right, like he could actually have objections_. 

“This is fine.” Alex mumbled. Martha, content with this answer, turned back towards the door. “Alright sweetie, I’ll let you unpack and get settled. If you need anything I will be right down stairs. And Alex,” he looked up at her, “it really is a pleasure to have you here.” With that Martha smiled, pulling the door shut behind her.

The encounter left Alex confused, she seemed genuinely glad to have him - but no one actually wanted Alex around. 

Alex sat his backpack gingerly on the desk. He ran his hand over the smooth surface, the expensive lacquer feeling foreign under his fingertips. With a start Alex realized there were two other doors in the room. Pulling open the first revealed a tiny room. Stepping inside, Alex noted shelves built into both sides of the wall and a bar ran along the length of the space at the height of his neck. 

_This is a closet. This whole space is just for clothes_.

Alex glanced from the limp and tearing backpack which held all of his belongings, to the room once more and slowly stepped out of the closet. Shutting the door. Door number two unveiled a full bathroom, complete with a shower and bathtub. Alex’s eyes widened at the space, it was as big as some bedrooms he’s had before. 

He leaned against the door jam, trying to process the last twenty three minutes in his mind. His thoughts scattered over the estate, the mansion, the room size, the Washingtons... _the Washingtons_.

Alex stumbled back into the wall. _George and Martha Washington. He was in the home of a U.S. Senator_. During nights when Alex couldn’t sleep he would sneak down while his current foster parents were watching the news and see Senator Washington on C-SPAN delivering an address alongside others. 

Alex blinked a few times and collapsed back first on the bed. 

_A senator took him in as a foster child…_

Before Alex could ride that thought train further, the plushness of the mattress seemed to pull him deeper into the cushions. The lack of sleep appeared to hit him all at once and suddenly Alex had trouble keeping his eye lids open. It took barely a blink before Alex was dropped into a land of memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not 100% sure where I'm going with this, but I'm having fun so I'm definitely going to keep on writing! You guys know I love the feedback, and again if you so wish you can find me on tumblr @kind-of-adulting
> 
> Thanks guys!

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, first chapter done! And I've already begun writing the second, I have so many plans for this story I just trying to keep my scatter brained mind on track haha! I'd appreciate you feedback below if you choose :)
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @kind-of-adulting


End file.
